


warm

by ofdaffodilsandmoonlight



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, New York, POV First Person, Stars, Writing practice, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:07:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofdaffodilsandmoonlight/pseuds/ofdaffodilsandmoonlight





	1. home

      It was late afternoon when the call came from the apartment building entrance, alerting me that someone was coming up to my door. I had hardly just moved from the couch when it opened, revealing Jordan Baker, the one friend of mine who felt it appropriate to treat my home as her own when it suited her. Taking one look at my immediate appearance and casting a look which only told that I was a mess, she took a seat on the couch.  
      “Get dressed, we’re going out.”  
      “Where?”  
      “House party,” she sighed, typing on her phone simultaneously, “a few blocks away. It would do you good to leave this place again in your lifetime.”  
It wasn’t as though she didn’t have a point, it had been weeks since I’d gone out for another purpose than work since I’d moved in. To my credit, I spent my time unpacking and hurling what inspiration I could muster onto as many word documents as I was allowed, and what felt like a few days to me were excruciating months for Jordan.

      Nevertheless, I changed into something more fitting for the event, arranged my hair as neatly as it would allow, and returned to the living room. Jordan glanced up from her device, and, satisfied, held the door as we left the massive building.  
I was almost surprised her girlfriend wasn’t in the car, though it would have been rude to keep her waiting, and I should have known better than to think Jordan would plan that poorly. The situation pieced itself together though, when we arrived at the supposed party house, and the woman Jordan was dating singled her out. They disappeared, hands clasped.  
      It wasn’t difficult to find a group to tune in to after those who recognised me were greeted, since one of them insisted I stand by and listen.   
  
      “No,” started a booming, dignified voice opposite me, “Can you read? That’s not what he meant at all!” The man sitting next to me only laughed. That was the first time I’d laid eyes on him, as could be said for the majority of the guests about the place as of then. But standing, all I saw of him was the shock of blond until he tilted his head back with laughter.   
      “Times were different then, old sport,” that term, I noticed, made the shouting man- whom I now recognised to be my cousin-in-law- scowl in the slightest, “A man couldn’t just write anything he pleased.”  
      I hadn’t been standing around long enough to know the context of the conversation, but I was intrigued by the level voice of the blond man in contrast with my cousin’s usual shouting and overconfidence.  
      It seemed the conversation had ended, Tom unable to say much more without being thrown out, and the unknown blond standing to excuse himself for a drink. I wasn’t, in that moment, particularly quick to thinking, and he almost walked into me when I failed to move aside. An apology halfway from his lips and halfway from mine, his expression shifted to one of recognition.  
      “Carraway, glad you could make it, old sport,” he offered, along with a shake of his hand, beaming at me with such a smile I could not recall a man having ever directed my way. It was warm, understanding, and for a moment I felt he’d known me for years.   
      Needless to say, I shook his hand, “Pardon me, I don’t believe I caught your name?”  
      “Jay Gatsby,” he responded quickly, guiding me to the bar in the kitchen by a hand on my shoulder, “Forgive me, I haven’t been the most attentive of hosts.”  
      For at least three seconds, I was flooded with embarrassment at my own failure to recognise him, but I supposed I couldn’t be fully blamed. Jordan had never mentioned the host’s name.   
      “No worries,” I insisted, resisting the impulse to drink myself out of self-consciousness.


	2. stars and city lights

     The next party (the following Saturday, I had insisted to Jordan I’d be fine with attending again) went similarly, and i found Jay staying by my side the majority of it, even after we’d finished our drinks. When he was addressed by someone else or some other group, even, he’d insist I join him and frequently looked over to see how I reacted to things.    
     When the next hour came, it seemed almost a unanimous decision that it was too late to stay any longer, and the mass of people began its separation and departure. I, however, was left to my own confusion when I found Jordan’s car- or lack thereof. So naturally I thought to walk back to my apartment, but, just my luck, my phone was done for, so using a map was out of the question.    
     I went back inside, hoping Tom would be decent enough to let me borrow his phone for a moment to call a taxi, but somehow came face to, well, chest, with Jay almost immediately upon entering the room. He inquired, and I told him I had no way to get home, and had been about to explain my intention to borrow Tom’s phone, when he spoke again.   
     “If it wouldn’t be a problem, old sport, once everyone has gone, I can give you a ride.”

     The interior of the car was only illuminated by the short-lived glow of streetlights as Jay drove, his driving significantly faster than the speed limit, but the look on his face, I thought, told that he’d have driven the same in broad daylight. It was quiet and cool. 

 

     The digital clock center of the dashboard glared in blue that the minutes were nearing 2 am. Anyone in their right mind should perhaps have been asleep, but Jay spoke again, clearly trying to read my expression between glances at the road, with some nerve.    
     “I understand you haven’t lived in New York too long?”   
     “Only two months,” I confirmed.   
     “Ah, and,” here he took pause, perhaps second guessing himself, “in that time, have you had a decent view of the city at night?”   
     That relied on his definition of ‘decent’ and whether he meant from within, but I dignified the question with the answer Jay expected, which was true enough.   
     “No.”   
     “Would you like to? If not it’s no trouble, your apartment isn’t far.”   
     Sure, it was two by then and any late night adventure somewhere one party wasn’t familiar with was suspicious enough, and sure, I hadn’t been even close friends, really, with Jay, as I’d only spent two evenings with him thus far and at that, not alone. Even so, as I considered that fair warning, it became clearer to me that I could just go along with this. Because I wanted to. 

     So I agreed to it.

     Evidently more than glad I’d agreed, his faint smile was illuminated by another streetlight with the brevity of a lightning flash, and we were crossing a bridge.

 

     Everything- every blackened outline of tree, every star and city light- was thrown into shimmering question on the reflection of the bay. That was what I saw first, but lifting my gaze once more, had I been much younger and with that particular creativity of thought, I might have believed whoever built that city made it a busy facade by daylight, but by night where stars came out of hiding and scattered and  _ watched _ all they could not see by the merciless overruling sun. Jay set back the roof of the car- I somehow hadn’t realised it could do such a thing before- and neither of us seemed to mind the chilly, salty ocean air. He drove further, up a hill, not toward the city lights, but higher, and stopped in a clearing surrounded by trees.

     High enough and at such an angle that we could see everything, and further away from the congestion, more of our little view of the vast universe in stars.

     The wind had taken no mercy on Jay’s hair, and in defiance he smoothed it back.

     “Welcome to New York.”


End file.
